


Through Flood, Through Fire

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Banshee Lydia Martin, Bathing/Washing, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, First Time, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Kings & Queens, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Multi, Pixie Stiles Stilinski, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Derek Hale, Warning: Kate Argent, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, what do we have here?”</p><p>Ally whirls around and her eyes open wide as the prettiest fairy she'd ever seen slinks from the shadows, hair like living flame and wings to match, lithe body encased in a long black gown. Allison blinks on her Othersight and gasps at the vision of a skeleton with wings of blood.</p><p>“A bean sidhe,” she squeaks and covers her mouth, eyes darting around for escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Charm. Because fairies.

Allison zips through the foliage, wings the color of white birch fluttering madly behind her as she races to get away from those searching for her. She ducks down beneath a large overhanging leaf, sides heaving and peeks around to watch the skies. A smirk curls the ruby red lips upward as the trio chasing zip by, and then she jumps and nearly falls off her perch as a voice sounds from behind her.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Ally whirls around and her eyes open wide as the prettiest fairy she'd ever seen slinks from the shadows, hair like living flame and wings to match, lithe body encased in a long black gown. Allison blinks on her _Othersight_ and gasps at the vision of a skeleton with wings of blood.

“A _bean sidhe_ ,” she squeaks and covers her mouth, eyes darting around for escape.

“Lydia,” the dark fae offers with a regal incline of her head, but makes no move towards the dark haired fairy.

Ally smooths down her off-white sundress nervously, bites her lower lip and then murmurs, “Allison,” in response.

“A lovely name for such a lovely fae,” Lydia says silkily.

“Lydia, stop teasing the princess.” Another dark fae lands, her wings flutter down to fold into a dark purple cloak that blends into her robes.

“Marin,” Lydia acknowledges, and then her gaze resettles on Allison. “Princess, huh?”

“That's right,” says a familiar voice as Stiles backflips onto Allison's leaf with a wide grin. “And who might you be, gorgeous?” He waggles his brows which has the effect of making him look absolutely ridiculous.

“Out of your league, pixie,” Lydia retorts, eying the leaf-green ensemble he's encased in with distaste.

“Miss Lydia, Miss Marin,” comes the voice from the third of the light fae trio, Allison's cousin Scott as he joins them. Scott flashes his charming smile and the whole world brightens for just a second as he tucks his wings – the exact shade of a fallow deer – behind him. “How nice to see you again. Are you traveling to see my mother?”

“Prince Scott,” they both murmur in greeting, Lydia curtseying, Marin bowing her head low.

“We are indeed,” comes a soft voice from behind the dark fae, and Scott's smile slips for a brief second.

“Prince Derek,” he breathes, and then clears his throat, an odd flush of color coming over his cheeks.

Ally wonders if he's quite well.

Derek steps from the shadows and Allison takes an involuntary step back. The dark fae prince is garbed in emerald so deep it's almost black and he looms over his companions, not just in stature but in aura.

“So that's Derek,” Stiles mutters under his breath and Ally glances his way, but he just throws her a wink.

“We are escorting them, my prince,” comes a proud voice from above them and Jackson and Braeden land simultaneously, the former in baby blue, the latter in lavender. Jackson shoots Allison his best smile, which before today she had thought the most beautiful in the whole world. Now it pales next to Lydia's smirk.

Scott nods. “Thank you. We will see you at Court then.” Scott turns away and then hesitates, looks back at Derek over his shoulder. “ _Everyone_ will be there.”

Ally thinks it an odd thing to say, why of course everyone will be there, but Prince Derek takes a step back and seems to lose some of his color a moment, and then nods once.

The rest of his entourage catches up with him, and Ally looks them over before she turns and follows her cousins into the sky. Two catch her eye, one with golden curls and wings the color of the deepest part of the sea, and another in the shade of thick honey that contrasts with his deep rich skin in a way she finds rather pleasing.

Then Stiles calls her name and she follows the pixie off back to their city.

-

Jackson and Braeden wait until the trio has vanished off into the sky and then the powder-blue fairy flutter his wings in annoyance and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. Braeden nods in agreement, lips tight as she gazes at the sky.

“Glad I'm not the one on guard duty for them,” she mutters to Jackson who nods and then turns to face the dark-haired noble.

“Shall we continue on, Prince Derek?”

He grunts an assent and then darts a glance to his two male companions and jerks his chin. The one called Boyd nods and heads off to the right, dark yellow wings graceful as he vanishes to guard the prince's flank.

The other one, he of the rich blue that matches his eyes, saunters more than obeys, and Jackson doesn't realize he's staring until those fascinating eyes glance over the dark fae's shoulder and he offers Jackson a wink before vanishing.

Jackson huffs in annoyance. He'd only been comparing their shades of blue, not what – well what the other fae had obviously thought it was.

“Isaac,” Derek murmurs just over Jackson's shoulder, causing the guard to twitch in startlement. “His name is Isaac.”

“I don't care what his name is,” Jackson sneers and then takes off, hovering over the prince and his two lady advisers alongside Braeden

-

The city of the light fae has no official name but it's known as the crystal city or the glass city by outsiders. It shimmers and refracts any light so that it is constantly full of brightness and covered in rainbows. Ally always smiles to come home to it, but today she's troubled, and both her cousins notice.

“Don't let them scare you, Ally,” Scott says comfortingly, while Stiles make grandiose promises and elaborate schemes of how he'd defeat them were it to come to war.

“There'll be no war, son,” a deep voice sounds, and then strong arms sweep the three of them into a hug. “I'll see to that.”

“Lord John!” Ally beams and kisses the old man's cheek. “How nice to see you!”

“Dad!” Stiles exclaims at the same time, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, they give the old man a break from the borders every now and then,” he winks, and then nods to Scott. “My prince.”

Scott offers his sunny smile. “No need for that when it's just us, Uncle John. How is the border?”

They drift off while Stiles floats above Ally's head. “Now, onto the real question, who was that beautiful fae?”

“She said her name was Lydia,” Allison answers softly. “She's a banshee.”

Stiles flips upside down and looks Ally in the eyes. “Oh you _like_ her,” he crows. “Good taste, cuz.”

Ally makes a noncommittal hum and then glances at Scott. “Why did he look so unwell when we saw the dark fae? Is he scared of them?” her voice reflects her disbelief of Scott being scared of anything.

Stiles laughs so hard that his face turns red. Ally glares until he's quite done and then crosses her arms and taps her foot at him.

“Oh, no, little cousin,” he shakes his head, golden eyes still dancing with mirth. “Tis not my secret to reveal.”

Ally's just about to press for more when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway, and hears that voice call for her “favorite niece.”

“Kate!” squeals Ally and flutters over to give the older woman a huge hug as Kate's carnation wings fold down to allow such.

“Back from the battlefield,” she beams and kisses Ally's cheek. “Just look how you've grown!”

Behind her, Ally doesn't see Scott and Stiles exchanging glances, or the tightness of John's mouth, but Kate does. The Lady Kate doesn't miss much.

“Prince Scott.” Kate greets them properly, if coldly, in order of rank. “Lord John.” She hesitates a moment before greeting the pixie. “Stiles.” She says it the same way she would remark upon a foulness upon her slipper.

Stiles' eyes flash, and he's probably about to say something that will get him into trouble – he does not have the fortune of a noble title to protect him, for all his father's relation to the High Court – but Scott steps forward smoothly interposing himself between them.

Kate has to look up an inch at the Prince, and she narrows her eyes ever so slightly, reevaluating him as he calmly asks her opinion on the far west border, and distracts her from badgering Stiles in the process. Scott eventually draws John in and facilitates a discussion, thought neither of the two generals talk to each other, allowing a seething Stiles and a bored Ally to escape.

-

Derek is quiet for the next leg of their journey, as they follow their guides along the maze that strangers must enter the crystal city through. At some point he glances up and notices Marin walking beside him. She looks up and something about her calm gaze is questioning, but Derek's no longer the wide-eyed little boy who would listen to her lessons with rapt attention.

He's been the dark fae prince for long enough - essentially running their small kingdom while his uncle languishes from the mysterious malady that no one has been able to discern the cause of – that she no longer intimidates him, and he meets her gaze just as calmly.

“These blossoms are particularly lovely,” she notes, dark eyes straying to the ordered chaos of the foliage around them.

Derek knows that Marin doesn't want to talk about flowers.

“I'll be fine,” he grunts, asking the question she'll spend the next few moments beating around the bush getting to.

“Naturally,” she says, in a tone that – politely – expresses her extreme dubiousness at his assertion. She waves her hand and a beautiful plant ejects a series of thorns that bury themselves in the bark of the tree across from it. “Such pretty things,” she murmurs, “with such an dangerous interior.”

Derek sets his jaw. He knows all about the poison inside the Lady Kate, but he's getting the feeling that's not to who she refers. He stops walking and narrows his eyes down at her.

“Whatever you think you need to say, get it out and then get out of my face,” he growls. His people are familiar with his black moods, and she's seen more than most.

Marin glances to the escorts and then back to Derek. “You are not that one's destiny either, my prince.”

“Fuck destiny,” Derek snarls and then walks away from her, but he knows she's right. After the incident that destroyed his family, he cannot let his heart lead him around. He's meant to marry the Princess Allison and take her back to his kingdom to rebuild his family.

It doesn't matter that his dreams are filled with rich brown eyes, soft tan wings, and a smile made of sunshine. What Derek wants has never mattered.

-

Stiles flutters off after bidding Allison a quick goodbye, and she's left to her own devices. The day has given her many questions, and so she goes to the one place she knows she can find answers – her teacher, Deaton.

He's not at his dwelling, so she sits and waits, digging three strips of leather from the basket reserved for students and starts braiding and weaving them together. Deaton says it's good for fingers to be busy while minds ruminate, but she thinks he just got annoyed with Stiles' fidgety nature.

The princess abruptly wonders if all pixies are like him. She doesn't know, she's never seen another of his kind before. It's that question that's on the tip of her tongue when her teacher returns and so she blurts it out when he comes through the entryway.

“What are pixies like?”

Deaton doesn't looks surprised in the least, never has for as far back as Allison can remember, and goodness knows Stiles has come up with some odd questions in their time studying here. He just smiles blandly.

“Good afternoon, Princess Allison. Care for some tea?”

She blushes sat the reminder of her manners and nods, waiting impatiently as he wills the tea into existence, along with a few of her favorite lemon cookies.

“Your sister's back from the border,” he mentions absently as he serves her, and Ally nods with a smile that fades into a frown.

“Yes but she's different.. She's...” Ally flounders for words.

“Brittle,” Deaton suggests with a soft nod as he settles across from the girl on his rug. “It has been a difficult few years for her.”

Allison frowns. “Why?”

Deaton's lips thin ever so slightly. “Your parents have never spoken of this to you?”

Ally shakes her head. “They refuse.”

Deaton is quiet, but his pale marigold wings rustle faintly, giving away his indecision.

“I shall tell you,” he decides, “as your teacher I have the right to instill any knowledge that I feel you must have. I believe this qualifies.”

It's oddly formal and Ally looks around suspiciously to see if there's someone watching. Deaton's warms brown eyes sparkle at her. “One must observe the forms,” he murmurs and then pulls out a stick, tugging a wooden box of sand between them next to the tea service. He draws a circle in the sand and the princess leans in eagerly to watch.

The sand inside the circle melts, fuses, becomes a piece of clear glass, then a mirror. Smoke moves within it, then colors, and then they resolve into people, images of her elder sister.

_Kate smiles up as Lord John bows to her and takes her hand._

Allison frowns as she sees the coronet of the heir upon the blonde's brow and her gaze darts up to her teacher.

“Yes, my princess, she was the heir before you.” Deaton waves the stick over the mirror. “And then the war happened.”

Allison has heard the stories of the war with the monsters, the trolls and gnomes and goblins who sought to eradicate the fae – both light and dark.

The image resolves again.

_Kate has her bracered arms wrapped around John's neck, cheek resting against his armored chest briefly, then they turn to face the score of warriors below their balcony._

“She was betrothed to Lord John when they went off to war. She to the West, he to the East. When it was all over, when they both came back to the city, he had something with him.”

Allison peers at the tiny version of John and the bundle in his arms, and recognizes the tip of leaf green wing. “Stiles!”

“Indeed,” Deaton nods as they watch.

_Kate's smile slips slowly from her face, her skin pales and then reddens, and then she pulls her sword and swing it directly at the babe._

Ally gasps and covers her mouth. Deaton watches grimly as they fight.

_John is handicapped by the child in one arm, but Kate is all rage and no finesse. He disarms her and sends her to the ground._

“She left for the border patrol that night, renouncing her claim to a throne.”

_Kate guts a goblin, then is overwhelmed by several others, before being saved by a dark figure, who – when he steps into a sliver of moonlight – turns out to be a much younger version of the dark fae prince._

“Derek!” Allison exclaims in surprise, and Deaton looks at her a long moment.

“Oh we met him out in the woods today,” she explains. He merely nods and turns back to the sand-mirror.

_Kate and Derek are silhouetted in moonlight, and she's got him pinned up against a wall, lips buried in the crook of his neck, hand moving between them, and then there's a sudden flare of light and a handsome older man with blood red wings tears Kate away from the prince._

“King Peter,” Deaton murmurs, “before the sickness hit him. Derek's uncle.”

_Kate and Peter fight and he wins, throws her to the ground bleeding, sword pointed at her neck. He speaks to her with a sneer and then steps back to let her up, remaining between her and the young prince until she's out of sight._

Allison sighs softly. “Poor Kate,” she murmurs. “Why did King Peter tear them apart?”

“Derek was promised to another long ago as part of the treaty that ended the war between the light and dark fae.”

Allison shakes her head sadly for her older sister, leaning back assuming the story is over, but the sand mirror continues with images.

_Black smoke roils and underneath it flame, a hungry flame that surrounds a large obsidian castle. It draws inward, contracting until it laps at the castle and the entire structure collapses in on itself._

“Everyone died,” Deaton says softly, eyes sad. “Except King Peter who was left in a shattered state, and still lies upon his bier, suspended between life and death. And Derek, of course.”

Now the mirror goes blank and then begins to revert to grains of sand.

“We lost touch with the dark fae for many years after the incident, until one of them was able to get a message to me and we were able to assist them as required in our treaty.”

Allison is frowning thoughtfully.

“Who was it that sent you the message?”

“My sister.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jackson's at his post outside the main hall when the dark fae Isaac walks – no, _slinks_ – by, and he immediately stiffens, hackles up, wondering why this intruder, this interloper is just wandering around. Braeden tosses her head and gives Jackson a wink for some reason. He just narrows his eyes at her, and continues to watch the mesmerizing deep rich blue pattern of Isaac's wings.

As if the dark fae can feel his regard, Isaac turns slightly, fixes those dark blue eyes on Jackson. The light fae can't hide the flush that pinkens his pale skin, and Isaac stalks towards him like a cat towards its prey.

Jackson stomps the feeling down, feels his anger flare that this, this _creature_ dared make him feel that way, and by the time Isaac reaches his side, Jackson's gaze is steely and uncompromising.

It doesn't seem to dissuade Isaac though, in fact, he gives off the impression that he's laughing at Jackson, but his voice is mild as he asks Jackson where he can find the sparring grounds. The soldier's baby blue wings flutter slightly in confusion at the question, and he balks for a moment, unsure if this is a question he should be answering.

Fortunately, he's saved by a voice of authority as King Christopher brushes through the doorway that Jackson and Braeden are guarding.

“I'd be happy to show you and Prince Derek where they are,” the Fall King says, stepping between Jackson and Isaac, drawing the dark fae's attention. “Why don't you run and fetch him and we can have a tour before the meal?”

Now it's Isaac's turn to flush as he's treated like nothing more than an errand boy, and there's something dark in his gaze as he looks at the back King Christopher has turned on him before he darts away.

“Be careful of that one,” the Fall King murmurs to Jackson, “Word is that he's only interested in the chase.”

Jackson's mouth gapes open a few heartbeats before he recovers control and nods with a soft, “Thank you, sir.”

It marks the first time that either King has ever spoken to him, and Jackson is filled with awe, and then a flush of embarrassment when he realizes that the Fall King basically just repeated gossip to him.

Braeden breaks out into giggles once King Christopher has vanished down the corridor, and Jackson glares at her, but his thoughts of retribution vanish as the dark fae Emissary, velvet purple wings draped about her regally, wanders absently through, deep in conversation with the Prince and Princess' teacher, Deaton.

He snaps his gaze straight ahead as they approach the great hall, standing perfectly at attention. Deaton looks between the two guards a moment.

“Emissary Marin needs an escort to gather some things in the forest,” he announces, “Queen Melissa has authorized me to send someone along with her.”

 _Please not me_ , Jackson wishes, and it's apparently granted, for Deaton turns slightly to look at Braeden and requests her to the assignment. She simply nods, and trails after the dark fae, after a brief glance exchange with Jackson.

The Unholy Trinity are the next exciting thing to happen, Scott the beacon of calm in the center of Princess Allison's young cheerfulness, and that pixie Stiles constant movement. For the first time since he can remember, the princess does not stop to flirt with him, and he's surprised at how relieved he feels. He knows he's beautiful and dashing, but he also knows that he's a mere soldier, for all that he guards the royal family, and she was always meant for other things.

Jackson finishes his last solitary hour of duty, and then he hurries towards the barracks, dreaming of the baths and then a hot meal.

He's just slipped into the scalding hot pool of water, muscles relaxing, when a host of others come in from the practice field, where apparently Prince Derek had won an extended bout with the Fall King. He listens to the gossip with half-lidded eyes until there's a splash of someone far too close and he opens them, turning his head to the side, to see a flare of sapphire wing.

Not again, he groans, and closes his eyes tighter, hoping maybe Isaac will not bother him. All the while a tiny part of Jackson kind of hopes he will.

“Hey there, Jacks,” a soft voice says far too close to his ear, “How about you and I relieve some tension together?” At the same time, the light fae feels a hand skate along his side.

Even as he feels himself reacting, Jackson recalls the words of the king, and instead of stammering and blushing, he manages a simple, “No thanks,” and slides two inches away, just out of Isaac's reach.

He can almost sense Isaac's confusion, and to the dark fae's credit, he takes no as given, and after a few more minutes of soaking, Isaac slides free of the hot pool, and pads away.

Jackson feels a little touch of regret, but he's never been one for casual encounters, and no dark fae is going to change that. Not even if he's the most beautiful fae Jackson has ever seen.

-

Derek returns from the private heated pool still smug from his victory. Granted since being chosen Fall King, Christopher hasn't done much dueling, but Derek's still pleased that he's gained himself some stature in the eyes of the Princess' people. It'll be easier on everyone when he takes her away, back to his kingdom, if they admire her husband.

The suite of rooms that he and his entourage has been given is deserted except for one very bored looking Boyd, who's idly sharpening his sword, and a flame winged banshee who is apparently tearing everyone's wardrobes apart, looking for just the right outfit for the formal gathering this evening.

“Everyone left,” Boyd responds shortly when Derek asks, and the dark fae prince arches a brow at his friend, as if to say, _Obviously, thanks for not helping_.

It doesn't faze Boyd in the least, and he just slides the sharpening stone along his blade one more time and then rises. “I'm leaving,” he announces and walks out through the door. Derek blinks after him, nonplussed, and Lydia pokes her head out from the other room, encased in just a tiny slip.

“He found something he wants to hunt.”

Derek frowns in confusion, but puts it out of his mind as Lydia starts altering one of Derek's shirts.

“You brought more things than any of the rest of us, and you have to ruin one of mine?”

“Yup,” she says, popping the 'p' and then casts a critical eye on Derek. “You've been playing swords, haven't you?” She snaps her fingers and points to the bed. “Alright, lets see the damage.”

Derek rolls his eyes but tugs off his shirt, hissing a little as sore muscles twinge.

“Oh, you're black and blue,” Lydia clucks, and digs in her bags for a jar, before climbing on top of Derek, straddling his backside, and rubbing the cream into his back muscles. Derek closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh as the lotion does its work, feeling the knotted tension fade away.

In far too quick a time, his back is done, and Lydia climbs off and imperiously demands he flip over. The time, when she straddles him, the banshee settles right onto his half-hard cock, and grinds down into it as she massages the muscles of his arms and chest.

“Lydia,” he groans, “that is not helping.”

“Don't worry, my prince,” she murmurs as she continues her ministrations. “I'll take care of that too.”

Lydia's been an occasional bedmate of the prince's and he thinks nothing of reaching out and sliding the pad of his thumb along one of her nipples, feeling it tighten through the thin silk of her slip. At least, he thinks nothing of it until the door opens, and Derek glances over to see Prince Scott framed within it.

“Scott,” he says in surprise, sitting up suddenly, which startles Lydia into wrapping her arms around his neck, lest she fall, and then turning her gaze onto the other man.

Derek and Scott stare at each other until Lydia breaks the tension with a soft murmur.

“Prince Scott, do join us.”

Scott then flushes and looks away from the couple. “I apologize for the intrusion. I thought – well, it's doesn't matter what I thought – I'm just going to go.”

But Derek has recovered himself by this time, and he snaps out a command. “ _Scott_ , come here.”

The light fae prince freezes and turns around, takes one step and then halts, and Derek softens his voice. “Shut the door, Scott, and come here.”

he's not even sure why he obeys, but the prince does, taking a few halting steps until he's standing close enough to the bed that Scott could reach out and touch, but he doesn't. Derek lays back down, pulls Lydia with him, his large hands sliding down to flip up the short skirt of her slip.

“Just look at her Scott, she's ready for you.”

Lydia, for her part, arches her back and curves her backside up, puts her plump nether lips on display for the light fae prince.

“Go ahead, Scott, touch her.” Derek murmurs, with a soft ' _please_ ' echoing from the banshee.

Scott moves as if he's under a spell, or in a dream, reaches out and curves his left hand over Lydia's creamy white flank, takes the middle finger of his right and gently slides it along the cleft between Lydia's thighs.

The dark fae lets out a soft moan and pushes back into his finger, so that it slips just a tiny ways into her folds, and Scott has to bite back a moan himself at the wet heat he feels.

Prince Derek grinds up against Lydia as Scott explores further, sliding two, then three, fingers inside her dripping hole.

“More, please, my prince,” Lydia begs, and it's not clear which one of them she's talking to, but Derek looks up at Scott.

“Go ahead, give her what she wants.”

Scott flushes. “I don't – I mean, I _do_ , but I've never – ” He trails off uncertainly, but Derek smiles reassuringly.

“I'll show you.” And he slips out from beneath Lydia, leaving her bereft on her hands and knees. Scott though the dark prince might slide into the banshee himself, but instead, he reaches for Scott's belt, crushing murmurs of protest with heated kisses that leave Scott reeling.

Before he knows it, Derek's large hand is wrapped around Scott's length, and it feels so much better than what he's done himself, that he almost spills right then and there.

The dark fae somehow realizes, and back his hand off just at the right moment, chuckling softly at the tiny whine that escapes Scott's lips. Derek just turns him and tugs his pants all the way free, then gently directs him to kneel on the bed behind Lydia.

Scott's not expecting Derek to shuck his own clothing and climb onto the bed behind him, and he can't help but sneak a look at where Derek's cock lay hot and heavy against his thigh.

Then Derek's got his hand on Scott again, pushing it into Lydia' velvet heat, and he can think of nothing else. Scott experimentally rolls his hips, and the noise that comes from Lydia is so amazing, he does it again.

She arches back into him, and they set up something of a rhythm, until Derek reaches out and stills the younger prince. Scott looks at him questioningly.

“On your back, Lydia,” Derek orders, and she pulls away from Scott, and he whimpers as he's once again bereft, but then she sliding herself back into place and pulling his hands down to the breasts that spill out of the top of the slip.

“That's it, Scott,” Derek says as the light prince starts fucking into her once more, “Nice and easy.” Derek slides his hands over Scott's ass, cupping and massaging, and it's not unpleasant, so the prince doesn't protest. But he's shocked when he feels the wet swipe of tongue between his pulled apart cheeks, and he stills, craning his neck over his shoulder.

“What – ” he begins, but Lydia has been denied long enough, and she tugs him down onto her, pulls those plush lips to hers and occupies his mouth in a filthy kiss.

What Derek is doing starts to feel really, really good, and Scott relaxes into it, beginning to rut into Lydia with ever increasing passion. He's so lost in her that he barely notices that Derek has exchanged his tongue for a finger, and it still feels incredibly good, so he doesn't even stutter in his rhythm this time.

Derek adds another finger inside Scott, and then another, and there's a little bit of a burn to the stretch, but Lydia is whispering encouragements in his ear and her nails are dragging down his back in a way that he's surprised to find heightens his arousal.

When something bigger than Derek's fingers slide inside him, Scott finally realizes where all of that was going, but his cries are swallowed by Lydia, and she rocks up into him desperately until Derek is fully seated inside the younger prince. It's somewhat uncomfortable, but then Derek slowly slides out of Scott, shifts and then moves himself within once more, and his thickness rubs against something within the light prince than makes the need to finish suddenly much more urgent.

Scott tears his lips from Lydia and buries his face in her breasts as he starts thrusting into her harder and harder, chasing his orgasm. Each movement fucks him back onto Derek, who's just holding still now, letting Scott do the work, and the light prince doesn't even care anymore, because everything feels incredibly amazing.

With a burst of inspiration, Scott bites down on the banshee's nipple gently and tugs with his teeth, as he leans in, shifting the angle up a bit, and that's all the Lydia needed, because with the next thrust, she's shuddering beneath Scott, her passage tightening and squeezing around him. The light prince can hold back no longer, he's completely overwhelmed, and he cries out against her chest, slams into her one more time and then he's coming, hot seed pulsing out within her.

Derek starts fucking Scott now, slow and steady, and it keeps the light fae's orgasm going longer than he's used to, and when he's finally milked dry, Scott collapses on top of Lydia.

The banshee keeps herself wrapped around him, holding him tightly to her as Derek uses Scott's unresisting body, not bothering with finesse, just thrusting hard and fast until he spills inside the other prince.

Scott only gives a brief murmur of protest, dazed in his own bliss, as Lydia and Derek turn him so that they can wrap him up from either side, staying connected together as long as they can. Both dark fae whisper soft praises to Scott, tell him how amazing he is, how handsome, how talented.

Prince Scott falls into a comfortable doze as Lydia and Derek exchange lazy kisses across him.

-

“How long has it been?”

Braeden stares straight ahead. “Since you chose the dark fae over me? Not long enough.”

Marin sighs as she snips the flower she wants and carefully wraps it in a soft cloth. “Duty before pleasure, Brae. I never led you on, and Talia was always my charge.”

“Nope,” Braeden says, proud of the steadiness of her voice, “I did it to myself. Are you almost done?”

Marin rises, tilts her head up at the taller woman. “Are you going to waste what little time we have left here hating me?” She takes a step forward, tucking her dark violet wings up close against her back. “Or would you be willing to put that aside and frolic with me a while?”

Braeden makes the mistake of looking down into those soft eyes. “Dammit, Mar, I'm supposed to be _guarding_ you.”

Marin lifts her hands up to the clasp at her neck and releases it, so that her gown falls into a soft puddle at her feet. She steps away from the fabric, taking a few steps towards Braeden, then she's pressing her form up against the hardness of the light fae's armor. “It's always easier to guard someone if they're close to you. I suggest you get very, very close.”

Braeden closes her eyes, but she knows she's already lost by the time Marin tugs her down in order to press soft kisses against that vulnerable place in her throat. By the time Marin's lips reach hers, Braeden isn't even thinking of protesting.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the Warning: Kate Argent tag comes into play, also the Rape/Non-Con Elements tag.

Lydia slips away from the entwined boys, and has a bath drawn for her self, luxuriates in the magically warmed water until her fingers prune. She dries off with the fluffiest cloth she can find, and then slides a pretty dress on, perfumes herself lightly and does her long locks in a series of intricate braids. Then she whispers a spell that will seal her little room here from prying eyes and kneels in the center of the floor.

Lydia picks up her dagger and pricks her finger on the tip, lets three drops of blood fall onto the floor as she whispers over them. Soon she feels the presence of her King wash over her, and she's comforted by the vision of blood red wings. Quickly she tells him all that has transpired in their visit here, and gives her the feeling that he's pleased with her efforts. Lydia relaxes slightly, and then her smiles grows wide as he gives the banshee her next assignment.

-

Lady Kate is drunk. Stiles realizes this once her forearm is across his throat and her thigh is slotted in between his legs. Usually she just shoves him out of her way, sometimes lands a blow to his face or shoulders, but she always, always moves along. He'd gotten so used to it over the years that Stiles barely notices it anymore, just does his best to avoid her, ducks his head and takes the blows if he can't. So he doesn't even realize what she's doing until it's too late.

Kate is a warrior, strong and swift, and Stiles is half-pixie, undersized and scrawny. He's surprised to realize that he's looking down on her now, and even more surprised that she's managed to get herself drunk, no easy feat for the fae.

“Tried to hate you, pixie,” she slurs as her leg rubs against his crotch, and Stiles is so shocked by everything that he just freezes. Kate's got her hands inside his shirt, surprisingly gentle for what's happening, and one's gone far enough up for Kate to start rubbing the pad of her thumb across his nipple.

“It was easy at first, y' looked like _her_ , but now you look more and more like your father.” She blinks up at him and pushes up on tiptoe to crush her lips against his in a clumsy kiss as her hands slide from his chest to fumble with his belt buckle.

That's what breaks the stillness of his shock, and he swats down at her hands, fights back against Kate for the first time in his life, but it's far too late and Stiles has never fought anything, doesn't know how to do anything but squirm and flail. He feels panic rising to overtake him, and still he's hardening in her hand and he tries to shove her away, but then there's a dagger point poking into the underside of his chin.

“You're going to give me what your father refused to do, pixie,” she hisses, and Stiles just freezes, trembling at her words.

And then he hears a whisper.

“ _Let me in, Stiles. Let me protect you.”_

He looks around frantically but there's nothing, no one, and Kate is tugging him down to the floor, and then the whisper sounds again.

“ _Let me into your mind, Stiles.”_

And Stiles knows the danger of that, has heard all the awful stories, but what's happening now is just as awful, and so Stiles makes the decision and lowers his walls, breathes out a soft ' _Yes_ ' in his mind and lets the whispering presence in.

And then there's nothing but black.

-

“I can't marry _him_.” Allison is shocked. “He's gloomy and scary.”

Queen Victoria chuckles softly. “You should have seen your father before I gentled him.”

Queen Melissa wraps her up in a hug, dusky rose wings a warm blanket for her niece. “That's the promise that ended the war between our peoples, sweetie.”

Her mother settles down next to her and wraps an arm around her from the other side, her own silver-white wings draped over Melissa's. “You have all the tools you need to be an excellent Queen once Derek becomes King, dear.”

“I'm sure you'll grow to love him,” Melissa, gentle and warm as the Summer she represents, says warmly. “You'll brighten his gloom, and temper his darkness.”

“It's what you've been raised to do” Her mother rises and turns, shifting from mother to Winter Queen effortlessly. “You'll be handfasted tonight, then leave for six months to learn the ways of their Court, then you and your consort will return here for the next six, that he may learn our ways. One year and a day from today, you will be married. So it was written on the contract of peace.”

Allison bows her head, curling her birch wings around herself as the two Queens take their leave. She's startled when there's an almost immediate knock at her door, and she rises in surprise when she sees the beautiful banshee waiting for permission to enter.

“Oh, yes, come on in, Lady Lydia, was it?”

“Not a lady,” the banshee chuckles, fiery wings flaring and then settling down like a cloak as she enters, “just Lydia. There's not a lot of titles on the dark side.”

Allison shuts the door behind her and offers the banshee some tea.

“No thank you, Princess,” Lydia smiles, “I come as an advocate for Prince Derek.” She steps closer and trails a finger lightly down Allison's cheek. “I wanted to tell you about him.”

Allison feels weirdly shivery inside at the touch, and can't resist leaning into it. Lydia smiles wider and steps closer.

“I also wanted you to know,” she murmurs, “that I will be your lady in waiting once you are handfasted to the Prince.” Lydia steps closer, and Allison shuffles back slightly, then halts as she feels the surface of the door behind her. “I will be here to take care of all of your needs.”

Lydia reaches out and drags the tip of a nail along the side of Allison's neck, and the girl gasps aloud as the shivery feeling expands.

“What – What are you doing?” she stammers out.

Lydia chuckles softly. “Showing you how much I care about you, sweet princess.” And then she shocks Allison by leaning in close and pressing her ruby red lips to the princess' for a brief, soft kiss. Allison lifts her hand up to her lips where they're still tingling.

“Did you like that, Allison?” Lydia croons. “Come, lay on the bed with me and let me make you feel good while I tell you about my prince.”

Allison hesitates, but in the end, lets herself be tugged towards the bed, lets herself be wrapped in Lydia's arms. The banshee speaks softly of the trials Price Derek has had to endure, of the courage he's shown, of the way he cares for his people. All the while her hands are moving, little soothing, soft touches that makes Allison feel safe and warm and loved.

Lydia's rubbing small circles into Allison's stomach gently when she leans in to press a soft kiss to Allison's neck, and her hands slide upward, thumb brushing lightly across the bottom of Allison's breast. The light fae gasps as a feeling like charged electricity runs through her once more, and then Lydia's straddling her hips and tugging her tunic up to reveal her own breasts.

Lydia slides a hand up Allison's shirt further, runs the palm of her hand across Allison's nipple. Ally looks at Lydia and lifts her hand up. Lydia nods encouragingly and Allison repeats the motion, marveling at the way Lydia reacts, throws her head back and arches into Allison's touch.

Daringly, Allison sits up, and presses a soft kiss to the delicate flesh, glancing up as Lydia whispers for her to use her tongue. Allison does so, and is gratified to have Lydia tremble within her grasp.

Suddenly, Allison flips Lydia, pins her down on the bed and begins experimenting. Soon Lydia is whimpering beneath her and Allison feels powerful and victorious as Lydia arches and shudders in orgasm.

The princess stays straddled across Lydia's hips, and repeats the maneuvers on herself as the dark fae watches. The banshee scoots herself down and uses her tongue where Allison's fingers had just been, and the princess tangles her fingers into Lydia's hair and grinds down into the pretty face, rides Lydia's tongue until she reaches her own orgasm.

Lydia pulls the trembling girl close and they huddle together once more, and Allison thinks maybe going to the dark fae kingdom won't be so bad after all.

-

Marin gives Braeden one last lingering kiss, then they leave the woods, Marin pulling the cloak of Emissary around her as if another set of wings, Braeden fluttering off back to her duty.

The dark fae watches the soft lavender wings until Braeden's out of sight, then she turns to make her way to her brother's dwelling.

She's surprised to see Boyd emerge from the opened door, and pulls herself back into the shade of a nearby tree to watch the long, meaningful gaze that passes between the saffron-winged dark fae and her brother.

Marin waits until Boyd is headed back to the palace, no doubt to assist Prince Derek in getting ready for tonight's betrothal ceremony, before she slips to Deaton's door and raps lightly.

“Hello, big brother,” she smirks, taking in the tell-tale signs of, well, something. Her brother's cheeks are darkened, and there are three things out of place within his abode. Marin wonders how long those two have been dallying together. And she nearly brings it up, but then Deaton reaches out and plucks a twig from her hair and arches a brow.

Marin looks at him blandly as he tosses it into the fire, and then steps back.

“I'll make some tea.”

Marin inclines her head regally. “We have much to discuss.”

-

Scott's eyes flutter open to see Derek's hazel ones gazing down at him. The dark prince reaches out a hand and caresses his cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs softly, and may have said more, but Boyd and Isaac wander in and start getting Prince Derek's things ready for the evening's ceremony.

Scott tugs the covers over his lap and glares at the two.

Derek laughs. “Things are a bit more informal on the dark side,” he says and then shooes the duo out that Prince Scott could get dressed in peace.

Prince Derek is still stark naked when he pulls the fully clothed light prince into his arms for a long, lingering kiss. “Whatever happens, Scott,” he whispers against the shorter man's lips, “remember that this was true and real.”

Scott blinks in confusion, but Derek simply ushers him out the door, letting Isaac and Boyd in. Derek crosses his arms and leans against the wall, eying his fellow dark fae.

“Usually when we go visiting, Isaac's the one that looks like the cat that got the cream, and Boyd's the sour one. Have I stepped into an upside down land?”

Isaac grunts and Boyd chuckles. “Pretty boy here got his invitation declined.”

Derek arches a brow. “Really? What stalwart heart managed to resist those big blue eyes, golden curls, and wicked smile?”

“His name is Jackson,” Isaac snaps, narrowing his eyes at Boyd before flicking some clothing to his prince, “and I just haven't come up with the right approach yet.”

Prince Derek reaches over and flick Isaac a sapphire ring from his armoire. “Here, sometimes they like baubles.”

Isaac sticks out his tongue at the prince, but pockets the ring.

-

Stiles wakes from a dream of dark red wings and cerulean eyes to Prince Scott shaking him awake. Stiles flails and falls off the bed, glares up at his best friend and cousin from the floor. “I was having a good dream, Scotty...”

“I think I'm in love with Derek.”

“Prince Derek? The dark fae prince? The one who's all broody and lurky? The one that's getting handfasted to Allison tonight? _That Derek_?” Stiles rolls his eyes at Scott. “Yeah, dude, I know. I've known since the first time you met him. You came back home and talked about him for weeks.”

Scott sits down. “He's 'fasting to _Ally_?”

“Duh. Don't you pay any attention to servant's gossip?”

Scott shakes his head, then gnaws on his lower lip. “So that's why.”

Stiles pushes up from the floor and stretches. “Why what?”

Scott shakes his head. “Never mind, where have you been anyway?”

Stiles shrugs. “Here sleeping. I was really tired I guess.”

“Well, we'd better start getting ready for the evening anyway, you know how my father is.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Uncle Everything-strictly-organized-and-in-its-place. No wonder he's always hated me.”

“He doesn't hate you Stiles,” Scott throws his arms around his cousin and hugs tight. “He just felt offended by what happened with Uncle John and Lady Kate.”

Something sparks in Stiles' mind, something about Kate, but it's soothed over with a whispered, _Not now, Stiles_ , and the pixie promptly forgets it. Stiles pats his cousin's shoulder, smooths one flaring tan wing.

“Alright, Scotty, so what are we wearing?”

-

Braeden settles into her position guarding the doorway to the Great Hall, then arches a brow as the sparkling blue ring on Jackson's finger catches her attention.

“Ooh, what is that?” She cranes her neck to see, and then snickers at Jackson's blush.

“Gift from an admirer,” he grinds out, gaze flicking to Prince Derek's entourage, and the angelic-looking blonde who throws Jackson a wink.

“Ooh, I see,” she teases, and her partner narrows his eyes at her before snapping back to attention as the Kings and Queens come into view, and then sweeps through the doorway between them.

-

Once everyone is assembled together in the grand hall, Queen Melissa steps forward, looking elegant in a rose gown that matches her wings, and holds up her hands for quiet.

“Many years ago today, the kingdom of the light and the dark were at war. Queen Talia and Queen Victoria met in a ferocious battle. It went on for all of a day and then all of a night. Their magics were endless and creative, and they fought each other to a standstill.”

Melissa reaches out to join her hands in that of her sister's. “Then I came forward and reached out to both of them, and asked if we could not find a way to bring peace to our ravaged lands.”

Queen Victora's iridescent white wings, highlighting the cold season she represents, flare as she takes over the story. “We agreed to join our eldest children together, that they may bind the kingdoms together with their union.” Her gaze flicks toward Kate briefly, and the bright pink wings of the Lady sag slightly.

King Rafael's voice lifts next. “Princess Allison became eldest and it was to her that the prince of the dark fae was betrothed.” His ash wings never move, as rigid as his hard eyes.

Allison's father is last, the flowing yellow-white of wheat his signature color, reminding all of the harvest of fall. “Princess Allison, Prince Derek, step forward and be joined, handfasted together for a year and a day.”

Princess Allison's birch white wings make a marked contrast to the emerald of Prince Derek's as they look into each other's eyes, repeating the words spoken for then, then clasp their hands together to be tied with the cord by both Marin and Deaton.

Scott is so lost in his own sadness that he doesn't notice Stiles rising and then stalking towards the middle of the gathering until it's far too late to stop him. There's something weird about the way Stiles is walking, not the usual twitchy sort of way, no Stiles looks like a stalking predator and Scott frowns in confusion.

Stiles' leafy-green wings flare out as he steps before the joined prince and princess and he lifts his head up and announces with a voice not his own, before the entire assembled Court, “I come before you to accuse the Lady Kate of murder.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the Minor Character Death, and lots of it. Also, here comes the foursome ;)

“This is ludicrous,” Lady Kate says, her pretty face screwed up in disdain. “I've never _murdered_ anyone.”

She's before the Small Court now – the four Monarchs, Deaton and Marin, Prince Scott and Princess Allison, along with Prince Derek. Jackson and Isaac guard one end of the hall, Boyd and Braeden the other.

Stiles is lounging indolently in the provided seat, and there's an expression on his face that Scott has never seen before.

“Derek,” he murmurs, leaning to the side, “something's wrong with Stiles.”

Derek snorts. “Obviously.”

Scott blinks up at Derek and then narrows his eyes. “No, I'm serious.” He knows what Derek thinks of Stiles. “He's not acting like Stiles at all.”

Derek rolls his eyes but turns his gaze on the pixie, studies him a moment. He compares the annoying, spastic nature of the boy with the controlled, predatory menace he sees in him now.

“I see what you mean,” he replies, squeezing Scott's shoulder.

They continue to watch Stiles as Lady Kate blusters, King Chris and Queen Victoria stone faced and avoiding looking at each other, King Rafael looking at Kate with a faint distaste, while Queen Melissa looks perhaps the tiniest bit sympathetic.

She sneers down at the leaf-winged pixie. “He's just trying to discredit me because I spurned his advances.”

The Monarchs glances between themselves, but before they can discuss the counter-accusation, a dark chuckle sounds from Not-Stiles. “Oh, _Kate_ , you are so very wrong.” It almost sounds like a purr, the sultry way he says it, eyes focused on the light fae before him. “Don't you recognize me? Even in a different body?”

Lady Kate's eyes narrow and she seems somewhat less certain of herself as Not-Stiles rises and stalks towards her. Prince Derek unconsciously moves closer to Prince Scott, a protective move that not everyone in the room misses. Deaton and Marin are in motion as well, hands slapping simultaneously on either of Stiles' shoulders and crying out the same word. There's a flash of red light, and then Stiles convulses and falls to the ground. The siblings look worriedly at each other, but before they can explain anything, there's a commotion at the door. A messenger rushes in and falls to his knee in front of King Rafael. “Trolls,” he gasps out urgently, “They've overrun the Eastern Border.”

Lord John leaps up and rushes out, trial and Kate forgotten. The East is his command and he curses himself as he hurries along the corridor. He's closely followed by the royal guard, Braeden and Jackson, King Rafael and Queen Victoria. Marin and Deaton briefly conference and head a different way, making for the tallest tower in the castle, followed by Queen Melissa and King Christopher.

Prince Scott turns to the emerald-winged fae at his side and reaches out, clasping Prince Derek's hand and squeezing it. “I'm going to need to go as well, my people will need all the fighters they have.”

Derek looks down at Scott a long moment and nods.” Then I'm going too.”

Scott starts to protest and Derek lays a finger across the younger prince's lips, silencing him. He leans in to murmur softly. “The only way I'm sure you will come back to me is to have me guarding your back.”

Scott wants to argue – he wants Derek safe at home – but there's no time and all he can do is nod as he rushes out as well.

Prince Derek turns to his companions. “Today I fight with the Light Fae. You do not have to join me in the battle. You may return home if you wish.” He turns and follows Scott, not checking to see what they choose.

Isaac and Boyd roll their eyes – as if they wouldn't follow Derek into battle – and Isaac heads to their suite to grab his bow and arrow, while Boyd and Lydia take the path to the upper castle to join the magic users up in the tower, including Stiles, surprising them all.

While the fighters wing their way to the border, these join hands in a circle, Deaton taking lead. He sets a large scrying crystal in the center of their circle and begins linking them together. The cloud in the mirror fades, and they all lean forward to watch the invading troll horde.

-

The battle is long and fierce and Ally can only recall flashes of it.

The sapphire-winged dark fae from Prince Derek's retinue screaming his rage as Jackson's position is overrun, desperately fighting his way there – and being too late, fighting swords with his bow until he, too, is slain.

Christopher and Melissa crying out and doubling over in pain as the troll line surges in the victory of Rafael and Victoria's deaths.

A black crush of despair as both Boyd and Deaton pass out from the strain of their magic working – trolls are incredibly difficult to work magic against – and the subsequent wild surge of hope as Lydia, of all people, steps up and holds the magic all on her own. (It doesn't occur to Ally until later that she is at her most powerful during the throes of battle.)

A blinding rush of fear as she watches Prince Derek and Prince Scott lead a charge right into the heart of the troll line and be swallowed up by enemy forces.

The incredible weariness once the fight is over, and she and Lydia collapse in each other's arms, dully listening to the sound of Marin weeping behind them. Ally blearily lifts her eyes to Marin, who wipes her cheeks, murmurs something about Derek, and hurries down the winding stairs of the tower.

Lydia manages to press of soft kiss to Princess Allison's brows before the banshee falls into unconsciousness. Ally holds the flame-winged dark fae in her arms and watches the field of battle, watches dully through the looking glass as Derek and Scott pursue the defeated trolls to the border. They return to the battle site and, with all those still able-bodied, they begin the process of clean-up.

Ally sets Lydia down carefully and starts to make the others as comfortable as she can. By the time they begin to revive, she's covered them with blankets and had a light snack – and plenty of water – brought up to the tower.

Queen Melissa is the first to fully awaken, and she watches Lydia speculatively a long moment, before reaching out and pulling her niece into her arms. They're still hugging each other when a messenger arrives from Prince Derek, telling of the victory in sparse terms, and requesting Ally's presence on the battlefield. It seems he in anxious to check on his own kingdom in light of the recent attack, and he wants to be married and away this very day.

Ally waits until her father and Deaton have fully regained cognizance, and then they discuss the message over their bread and cheese. In a very short amount of time, it is agreed that they will heed Derek's request, and they will all accompany the princess out to the border. Some of the fae can heal, while others are able to use themselves as a conduit for magic, to pass it on to others.

Stiles wakes up with absolutely no memory of any of the happenings, which seems to make Deaton extremely concerned, but other things take precedence. Especially when the news comes that Lady Kate has vanished. They look as best they can before trekking out to the border, but manpower is limited, and there are many places to hide in the fae city.

-

Prince Derek and Princess Allison are wed the next morning, as the group was unable to arrive until well into the evening. Instead of fine raiment, Derek is in armor, and Ally is in the woodland camouflage that is the fae version of traveling clothes. Scott and Lydia, similarly attired, stand for them as Queen Melissa and King Christopher escort them to the makeshift altar, where Deaton awaits, and clasp their hands together. The monarchs share a bittersweet look, perhaps recalling their own double-wedding so long ago.

Ally is just mostly numb for the wedding, and Prince Derek is grim. Marin assists Deaton with the ceremony, none of which the princess actually hears. Her mind is caught in an endless loop of sadness. Her mother should be here, and her sister should be here, and it should be Jackson beside her.

There's no feast afterward, just a return to work. King Christopher, Derek, and Scott closet themselves to discuss plans for both the kingdom's defense. Prince Derek has lost both his guards, so Prince Scott – and an oddly insistent Stiles – will accompany the newly wedded couple, and their diminished retinue, when they leave in the morning.

When the sun begins to set, Scott comes to fetch Ally from the healing tent, where she's making comfortable those who are not quite as gravely injured, those that must wait for healing magic. Queen Melissa – from whom she had been learning – dismisses her with a tired smile and an order to try and find some comfort in the arms of her new husband.

Princess Allison doubts there is any comfort for her to be found in this world any more, but when she arrives at the large tent she will share with the dark fae Prince, Ally finds that Lydia has prepared a hot bath, and is waiting beside it with soft cloths and a lovely sleeping gown.

It's not until she's slipped from her clothing and sunk down into the hot water, laid her head back on the edge of the tub and exhaled a deep sigh, that I t occurs to her to wonder where Prince Derek is.

“With Prince Scott,” Lydia murmurs when the question is put to her, “he is getting Prince Derek ready, as I am you.”

Ally opens one eye to look at her, watches as Lydia kneels beside the tub, a small soft cloth in her hand and dips it into the water. The dark fae wrings it out, and then lifts a bar of perfumed soap, rubs it on the cloth until it's full of suds, and then bids Allison to sit up. She does so, the princess leaning forward as Lydia slides the slippery cloth down her back, just washing the grime of the day from the princess' skin. Lydia pours a jug of water across her back, the water sluicing the soap away, and then Lydia bids Ally lean back. The princess braces herself against the tub as Lydia wraps her arms around, and begins washing Allison's neck and chest. She elicits a soft gasp from the light fae as the cloth rasps across suddenly peaked nipples. Lydia's soft chuckle has Allison turning her head up for a kiss, which Lydia gladly obliges, though still moving the cloth against the princess' skin.

The banshee's tongue slides across Ally's lips, and she parts them, eagerly twining her tongue with Lydia's as the cloth slides lower and lower until it's rubbing light circles between her legs. Lydia's free hand circles around to tease one of Allison's nipples and soon the princess is arching into the touches. Her moans are swallowed up by Lydia's mouth as the banshee brings her closer and closer to the edge of her passion.

When Lydia withdraws, Allison nearly whimpers in need, and the smirk on the other girls' face shows that she knows.

“Not just yet, sweet princess. You'll have to wait for your husband.”

Ally narrows her eyes, but lets Lydia tug her to her feet, and gently dry her off. Though the banshee does place a few kisses in places guaranteed to keep the light fae in the height of arousal.

Lydia pulls the princess into the large nest of blankets and pillows prepared for herself and the dark prince, and spends their time waiting with light kisses and teasing touches.

They're so entwined that they don't even notice the arrival of the two men for a few moments. It's Lydia who looks up, sees Derek's arms around Scott, sees the glazed eyes of the light prince as Derek whispers into his ear and, if she's any judge of her prince, is rubbing his hardness against Scott's backside.

The banshee cards her hand through Allison's hair and then gently turns the princess' head. “Welcome your husband, Allison,” she murmurs, and the princess sits up, reaches a hand out to him shyly. Derek's gaze darkens as he looks her over, and slips off his simple robe.

He is covered in thick, dark hair, and it's coarse across his chest as she pets through it when he lowers himself beside her. Scott hovers in the doorway uncertainly until Lydia rises and pads toward him, slides her hand in his and pulls him to the nest with her.

Derek watches Lydia and Scott a moment before returning his gaze to the princess – his wife – and leans down, capture her lips in a gentle kiss. The dark fae prince bites back a groan as her hands – tentative at first, and then growing more bold – explore along him, light touches that stoke the fire in his belly, that bring forth the darkness inside that makes him want to pin and claim and _take_.

With difficulty, he resists as long as he can, and then Derek pulls her close, lifts her thigh to wrap over his hip and gently slides his length between her lips. Allison is heat and slickness, and Derek's fingers clench her skin tight enough to bruise as he hold back, just slides himself along her cleft a few times.

She surprises him by pushing him back, and his eyes blink open to furrow a brow, but he follows her silent command, rolls to his back and then the eyes widen as she rises up and climbs atop him.

Derek's hands settle at her hips as one of her hands curls around his cock, anchoring it that she might lower herself onto him. It's slow, _too slow_ , and he's battling with his instincts to pull her down hard, but eventually, the princess is fully seated upon him.

Allison is trembling, eyes closed, and Derek reaches out and strokes her sides gently, reaches up a hand and teases a nipple with the pad of his thumb. She opens her eyes and looks down at him, and for a long moment they just look at each other, and then Allison rolls her hips forward experimentally.

Derek groans and fists his hand in a pillow so that he doesn't crush her to him. The movement catches Lydia's attention, from where she's lazily making out with Prince Scott. She tugs Scott over, imperiously demands that he distract Derek.

Scott crawls closer, his own robe long since gone, and lowers his mouth to the dark prince's, who lifts his hands to holds Scott tight, directing his fierceness to the other prince in crushing kisses and a punishing grasp of the soft flesh of his rear.

The banshee straddles Derek right behind Allison, and slides practiced hands around to roll one nipple gently between her fingers as the other slides down between Allison's legs, rubs circles around that tiny little pleasure nub, until Allison is arching into it. The movement causes her to slide slightly off Derek's cock, and Lydia rocks her hips into the princess', showing her how to move to bring herself greater pleasure.

Derek moans into Scott's lips, and then pulls himself away, uses his grasp on the light fae's backside to bring Scott's dick to his lips, sliding the light prince's cock all the way to the back of his throat in an effort to distract himself from the way Allison is moving upon him.

Derek has to pull back from Scott when Allison start clenching rhythmically around him, has to watch Lydia's hands on her, has to sit up and pull Allison's mouth to his. Lydia doesn't stop, just adjusts and continues her ministrations as Derek claims his princess' lips. Scott settles to his knees beside Derek, presses sharp little bites along the dark fae prince's neck and ear, while one spit-slick finger moves down the cleft of Derek's ass and teases at his puckered entrance.

It's all too much for Derek and he loses control, wraps his arms around his wife and thrusts up into her two harsh times before he's coming inside her, dick pulsing out streams of white within the princess. Allison's not far behind him, Lydia's fingers bringing her over the edge and her orgasms milks the last of Derek's come from him, and he falls back into Scott's arms as Allison throws back her head and cries out in her ecstasy. Scott soothes him with gentle touches as they watch the girls together.

Lydia lays Allison down and slides her tongue through the fluids leaking out down her thighs, spends enough time cleaning the princess with her tongue, that Allison is flushed and moaning by the time the dark fae lifts her head from her task.

Lydia whispers something into her ear, and both sets of eyes fall on Prince Scott. He looks down at Derek in confusion, but the dark prince is chuckling and reaches to hold Scott in place as both women stalk him through the piled pillows and blankets. Allison holds his arms behind his back gently while Lydia teases him to full hardness once more, and then sinks down onto him. The princess crawls around so that she can touch Lydia like she had been touched while riding Derek, while the dark prince shifts so that he can claim Scott's mouth once again.

They experiment with a few more combinations and positions before finally they're all sated and they curl together to get some sleep before they leave on the morrow.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Princess Allison wakes up with her face mashed against Derek's back, and Lydia's arms curled tightly around her. Prince Scott's cheek is resting over Derek's heart, and his hand is across them all, entwined with Lydia's.

For a moment, Ally is snug and content here, and then she recalls the events of the day before. Tears being to prick at her eyes, and she sets her jaw as they threaten to spill over. Her companions must sense her renewed grief, for they all orient to her. Derek carefully turns and then wraps strong arms around her, holding her close. Scot slides his hand from Lydia's and into hers, squeezing gently. Lydia's arms tighten around her and she places soft kisses to the nap of Ally's neck, as the princess is wracked with sobs.

As the sun begins to rise, Ally's tears dry up, and there's several gentle kisses shared before the quartet drag themselves from bed and find clothing for the journey. If Stiles is surprised to find them all together, he doesn't show it as he arrives followed by servants with trays of breakfast food. He just plops down with his repast in between Scott and Ally and regales them all with stories of the badger and squirrels he'd teased into frustration that morning. He seems to be back to manic-pixie-Stiles-normal, which relieves Prince Scott greatly. Whatever was wrong with his best friend and cousin seems to be over.

Scott forgets all about it as Prince Derek being to lay out their journey, pointing out dangers, and discussing safe places where they will camp for the night. Before it seems possible, they are ready and it's time to leave.

Ally clings to her father a long, long time, while Scott promises his mother that he will get enough sleep and to clean his wings daily.

King Christopher settles his arm across Queen Melissa's shoulders as they watch their children fly away, watch until there's nothing left to see, and then watch some more.

Melissa finally breaks the silence, squeezing Christopher's waist. “It's time,” she says gently and he nods after once last look to the horizon. They head back together, back to the city that they must rule with half their heart ripped out, back to lead their people in mourning for their lost.

-

The journey is peaceful, no attacks, not even a sighting of the troll-kin, and it's a balm to sore spirits. They've all lost loved ones now, and where – on a different journey – there might have been playful banter, pranks, and eruptions of delighted laughter, here there is quiet contemplation and melancholy silences.

The first night of the journey – the second of Princess Allison and Prince Derek's marriage – goes much like the previous one. Without speaking about it, or even seemingly being conscious of it, they pull their bedrolls together to make a sort of nest for the four of them. Stiles rolls his eyes and flies up to join Marin high in the trees.

Scott ends up in the middle this time, Derek behind him, and Lydia wrapped in his arms, with Ally curled around Lydia's backside. There's not as much energy as before, but they all manage to find release in one way or another before falling into a deep slumber, all tangled up together.

It's just past midday the next day, when Lydia pulls up suddenly, dropping to a large stone outcrop in confusion.

“I felt something – strange,” she murmurs to Prince Derek.

“Well, that's just uncalled for,” comes a voice, rich in darkness and amusement, from the depths of shadow nearby.

“My King,” Lydia gasps out in surprise, while Derek's eyes go wide in shock.

“Peter?!”

King Peter of the dark fae steps from the shade, blood red wings extended, making him seem larger than he is.

“Lydia,” he greets fondly, then settles hi gaze on his nephew. “Hello, Derek.”

“YOU.” Stiles drops down from the canopy like a stone, diving directly at King Peter. Instead of ducking or even making any attempt to avoid the pixie, Peter just braces himself, stands firm and catches Stiles in his arms. The pixie pounds his fist into Peter's chest over and over as the king of the dark fae, wraps his arms tightly around the younger man. Then one hand reaches up and grabs a fistful of the pixie's hair, tugs his head back viciously.

Scott steps forward, thinking he's about to see his best friend's throat get sliced, but – to the shock of everyone, including Stiles – Peter lowers his mouth onto the pixies and kisses him hungrily.

“Ew,” says Ally succinctly, and both Derek and Scott have to turn their heads away a moment in a coughing fit to cover their snickering.

“Oh, he enjoyed it, Queen Allison,” Peter says silkily as he finally comes up for air, and her eyes narrow at him. Peter winks at her and then steps back, fading into the shadows once more as he releases the leaf-winged pixie.

“Stiles?' Scott says, reaching out to his best friend, but the pixie shrugs him off.

“I'm fine,” he snaps, but twitches backward in surprise as Peter returns. With another fae struggling in his arms.

Derek recognizes the bubblegum pink wings a split second before anyone else does. “ _Kate_?” The dark fae prince steps forward as Peter sets his dagger to the Lady Kate's throat.

“I cal grievance against this woman,” Peter's voice rings out. “She poisoned me and tried to hide her crime. She succeeded in killing my entire family.

“No! Kate!” cries the princess, but her cousin Scott holds her back, folds her into his arms as Peter continues.

“Before the Kings and Queens of Light, I take recompense for her sins against me.” As soon as these words are done, King Peter is drawing the blade across the pale throat. “Justice has been satisfied,” he says over Allison's screaming, dropping Lady Kate's body to the ground. “Do what you will with that,” Peter sneers, before reaching out and pulling a surprised Stiles to him once more.

With a sweep of powerful wings, King Peter is in the air, and he and his pixie captive vanish into the sky. Scott is torn between giving chase to save his kidnapped cousin, and comforting his other cousin as she clutches her sister's dead body.

Prince Derek looks to Scott, who's just alternating between staring at Ally and staring into the sky. Derek follows his gaze and then rests a hand on Prince Scott's shoulder. He thinks Stiles will be alright, and he says as much to the light prince.

“He was in Stiles' _head_ , “Scott splutters, “who knows what that Dark King could be doing to him now that he's got his claws on Stiles.”

“We're only two days travel from the city,” Derek points out, “and at least five away from my kingdom. We can't take – ” He cuts off and looks at the prone body of the Lady Kate. “ – her,” he finishes finally, “with us.” He doesn't offer the option that he's privately thinking, that they should just leave her here to rot.

“I'm taking her back to our family,” Princess Allison says, steel in her voice. “You can do what you like.”

In the end, they all decide to go back, except Marin, who decides to push on and promises to do her best for the pixie. Derek makes a littler for Kate's body, and they takes turns tugging it behind them.

They don't make love that night, not with the leaf-wrapped body lying across the fire from their nest. They just curl around a too-quiet Allison and try to give her what comfort they can.

-

They cross the border about midday two days later, moving slowly due to their burden. Derek is first, pulling Kate, and Scott is by his side, one step behind as he turns to check on the girls. Lydia walks hand in hand with the princess.

As soon as Ally steps through the border, a glow starts emanating from her, an off-white cream the same shade as her wings and she gasps aloud as it fills her eyes, and then melts into a soft blue.

“ **SPRING** ,” she says in a voice not her own, a voice that thrums with power and magic – and the scent of a field of new flowers.

They all stop and gape at her and Scott takes a step forward, but halts as the glow spreads to Lydia. She looks wild-eyed at Derek and tries to disengage her hand, but she's held fast.

When the blue touches her, it changes into a icy white, and the color bleaches from her wings. She opens her mouth, and the word “ **WINTER** ” peals forth, making Scott shiver as he feels the cold bite of snow against his cheek.

Prince Derek is backing away, has dropped his hold on Kate's conveyances, and seems about to feel, when the mysterious glow jumps across the gap and swallows him up. Derek burns in green fire, green like the vast sweeps of grass the cover the Eastern Plains. Scott feels the warmth of a hot sun on his body as Derek's lips part and “ **SUMMER** ” comes roaring out.

Prince Scott takes a few steps toward Derek, reaches out to slide his hand into the former dark prince's, and closes his eyes as the change flows across him. The sounds of the harvest fill his ears, and he think of the dark rust of fallen leaves. Scott is surrounded by the magic, buoyed and supported, and he can _feel_ his companions now, in a way that he hadn't before.

As one, they drift together, joining hands until a Circle is formed. The quartet float there, an eternity in those scant seconds,and then the magic fades away gently. They stand there blinking at each other, then Ally gasps, looking past Lydia.

“Your _wings_ ,” she says and reaches out to them.

Lydia flutters them a bi, then shrugs. “I was bored of orange anyway.”

Scott is lifting his hand to trace the silver coronet on Derek's brow, peridot carved into the perfect replica of a leaf its only decoration. He has a sudden thought, and check his wings, taking a moment to admire the russet shade. He reaches up to lift his own circlet free, and it's the perfect twin to Derek's, excepting only the stone. He has a fire topaz.

Allison's is a pale blue aquamarine, while Lydia has an iridescent diamond.

“All hail the Kings and Queens of the Light Fae,” comes a soft voice, and they all stare at Deaton as he flutters down from above.

“My mother – ” Scott starts but can't bring himself to finish, still clenching Lydia's hand tightly.

Allison's eyes widen as she realizes, one hand going up to cover her mouth, a soft moan of agony escaping from tightly clenched lips.

“Lady Melissa and Lord Chris yet live,” Deaton assures them, Ally sinking against Derek in relief. “They simply couldn't bear the weight of rule on their own.”

“I don't understand,” Lydia demands. “Why us?”

Deaton smiles enigmatically. “Who can tell the ways of magic?”

“How do I get rid of it?” Derek growls. His expression softens as Ally looks up at him, and his arm curls around her shoulder and tugs her close.

“I'm afraid there's no going back, King Derek,” Deaton says softly.

Derek arches a brow at the title, but lets it pass unremarked, as Deaton is bidding them all follow him.

The light fae – their people – are out in droves, devastating losses seemingly forgotten as they cheer for their new monarchs.

Scott's beaming and waving to the crowds. Lydia manages to look regally above it all, despite being the only one of them not from royal stock. Ally is smiling in that sad way she has lately, while Derek ignores everything.

Servants come to take the Lady Kate's body away, the Four are led to a room where the former King and Queen soon join them.

Lady Melissa and Lord Chris appear with arms linked. Until Ally throws herself into her father's arms.

“We're withdrawing to the Dark Fae lands,” Chris tells her. “Melissa still has family there.”

“Don't you want to stay around? Help guide us?” Allison looks up to Lord Chris.

“That's not how it works,” Melissa smiles softly.

“The magic has chosen you,” Chis says, looking them all over. “It will seek to eradicate all possible challenges to your rule.”

Scott pulls his mother close, while Chris kisses the top of Ally's head. “We leave after the Feast.”

-

Three days hence, all manner of magical creatures descend upon the City, representatives from every group that felt the changeover of power, of the light and of the dark, and all of those in between.

Including one blood-red winged King of the Dark Fae, and his Prince Consort, the half-pixie Stiles, now sporting wings black as shadow.

King Scott rushes to throw his arms around his thought-lost best friend, and Stiles reciprocates gratefully.

“I thought you were dead!” Scott exclaims.

“Me too,” Stiles confesses with a shrug. “It was touch and go for a bit, apparently losing his family and slowly dying made Peter a bit...cranky.”

Stiles winks at Derek's snort, then continues his story. “But once Marin explained – and taught me a few things – I made a deal with the King.”

“A deal?” Scott says. “You know you don't have to stay with him. I'm the King now, he can't keep you against my will.”

Stiles laughs and settles his arm around his cousin's shoulders. “Oh, Scotty, I've got him right where I want him.” He pats King Scott's chest. “He's all wrapped around my little finger.”

-

“It seems the truce between our two kingdoms may yet hold,” Lord Chris murmurs to King Peter later as they watch Prince Stiles twirl Queen Allison around on the dance floor, both settling for reclining on cushions made of softest down, sipping at golden wine from the finest nectar.

The Dark Fae tilts his head and arches a brow. “I hear you are to take up residence with your former Queen under my purview. We will have to have you to the palace.”

Chris considers King Peter a long moment, before returning his attention to the young faeries dancing light-heartedly.

“Perhaps,” he murmurs over his wine. “Perhaps.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I need to tag anything.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


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